


A Natural Remedy

by SmudgeInktopus



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Comfort, Episode 42, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 17:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10948875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmudgeInktopus/pseuds/SmudgeInktopus
Summary: When the world falls apart and the past comes back to haunt him, he has to steal moments for himself. This one, however, was given freely.





	A Natural Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Episode 42.  
> Inspired by Wendy Green's art: https://twitter.com/WendyDoodles/status/698636256675115010

He dug his fingers into the back of her shirt and prayed. Eyes closed, it was all he could do to breathe in the scent of the mountain flowers she used to wash her clothes. For the fragile span of eight seconds, he almost believed he could feel their petals nudging his hands as he adjusted his grip on the world. Three of his labored breaths bent shards of grass poking from the ground, softer than he ever remembered. Nine heartbeats thumped as he curled around her, feeling her own discordant rhythm trying to match his. But eight seconds passed by like a forgotten armistice and he was back in his own skin, seeking sanctuary in the hand resting on the roots of his hair, finding what strength he could before the sun went down.

He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see that the flower petals weren’t really there, that the ground wasn’t as soft as he thought, that it had only lasted a handful of stuttering pulse beats. He didn’t want to admit that anywhere was better than here.

“You don’t have to.” The hand that laid flat on the center of his back moved, sliding up to the nape of his neck, then back down. She felt like sunlight. “I know.” Her body shifted, her head bending to his, and a butterfly landed on his forehead. “It’s okay.” She moved again. The mattress creaked like an old ship. Her chin pressed against the crown of his head, just to the left of her hand. He clutched her harder, being careful not to break her more than the day already had.

His senses slipped from his imagination like a shadow from the morning sun. The flowers melted into green cotton, though their scent remained. The grass turned the color of the evening light stealing into the room from the tiny window, darkening just enough to become the summer shade of her hair. The soft ground dipped as they breathed, the sheets coming up to their ribs and stopping there, holding them together at their roots. Her heart beat against his ear, a bird’s wing reminding him that he wasn’t alone, not tonight. Her breathing softened, slowed, evened its pace like calm waves brushing up against a rocky shore. Each light exhale breezed through his hair, coaxing him back to the flowers and the place that wasn’t here.

He resisted, though, for just a bit longer. The sun had set and the room was dim, but not yet dark. Dust motes still floated in what little light remained like fireflies defending against the coming night as best they could. He moved ever so slightly, curling up like a broken thing, bringing his head closer to her heart. For a moment the strong arms around him tightened, pulling him from the dark.

He flexed the hand clutching her shirt and spread his fingers along her back. His thumb brushed the edge of her sleeve. Eyes sliding shut for the last time that night, he moved his hand just enough to rest the side of his thumb against her shoulder. A single point of contact, merely inches of warmth, but more than enough to calm his heart and keep him where he needed to be.

His breathing softened, slowed, evened its pace, and he followed her into her dreams, thinking of butterflies.


End file.
